


love in five stages

by clayisforgirls



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Fic Challenge, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 00:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4327740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clayisforgirls/pseuds/clayisforgirls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"he doesn't forget about the boy, and doesn’t want to for a while"</p><p>Originally posted for a fic challenge (plot device: someone has to be playing with a roll of tape -- scotch tape, athletic, medical, take your pick -- in the silliest way possible) in November 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love in five stages

**One.**

They're fourteen when they first meet.

Roger's in the middle of a growth spurt, he's awkward and doesn't know how to hold himself, arms and legs seemingly too long for his body. His clothes are slightly too big for him, parents telling him that he'll grow into them, his hair messily ties into a ponytail and a headband to keep the strands that don't stay tied back from falling in his eyes.

The boy he's playing, Roger can't think of any other word than cute to describe him. He's smaller than Roger, though not short of his age, with short, cropped blonde hair and grey eyes which hold a mischievous sparkle in them, and a warm, friendly smile that puts Roger at ease.

Roger likes him immediately.

Olivier, his name is, and during their match it bounces around Roger's mind, he can't keep himself focused on his tennis and he loses, although not as badly as he felt he should have. They shake hands afterwards, Olivier's warm palm in Roger's own and he doesn't want to let go.

In the locker room afterwards, Roger watches some of the other boys play with a roll of medical tape someone has left in there – they're tearing pieces off the roll and sticking it to each other and it makes Roger smile, he's glad that someone else is having fun even if he isn't.

He's so wrapped up in watching them that he doesn't hear the boy approach and Roger jumps when he puts his hand on Roger's shoulder, but when he meets mischievous grey eyes he can't do anything but smile.

"Are you okay, Roger? You look..." he pauses, trying to find the right word in English.

"I am okay, Olivier. Just sad that I lost," Roger replies in French, and there's relief in Olivier's eyes when he realises that Roger speaks a language he knows too.

"Maybe next time you should concentrate more," he says, grin on his face and before Roger can reply he's off, joining in the game with the other boys and Roger can only shake his head and chuckle under his breath.

He likes the cute boy with the smile of gold already.

**Two.**

It's not long before they play again, and again and again and Roger barely takes a game off the Belgian boy, let alone a set and he doesn't know how to improve his game, he's so in awe of the boy who seems to have the timing and the shots already and is just so comfortable out there.

At first he tries to imitate him, tries to play in the same style but it doesn't work and he ends up falling flat on his face at the academy in front of the other boys, but Roger just shrugs them off and tries again. After three weeks of trying, he gives up, resorting back to his old game, and then he plays Olivier again and loses but not by as much and it gives Roger that tiny bit of hope he needs.

It doesn't help that he thinks Olivier's game is incredible, so advanced for his age, he's only fourteen and Roger thinks he plays like a professional, so aware of his opponent and his shots, and Roger wishes that he had that, but he doesn't. He hopes it will come with time.

Each time they play they're a little friendlier with each other, from casual conversations at first to eventual teasing of and Roger likes having a sometimes-friend around at the tournaments he does play. It gives him someone to talk to and someone to do things with which his parents tell him off for later, especially when they get caught with a half empty bottle of wine behind the courts at the hotel.

Roger doesn't think he'll ever forget that moment, cheeks flaming as he sits with Olivier, pressed together to keep out the cold and his parents standing over him, yelling at him in a language that the boy next to him doesn't understand.

They tell him they don't want him to see Olivier anymore, and he knows he has to agree otherwise he won't ever become a tennis player. Roger apologises to the Belgian the next day, but Olivier just tells him that he understands, and that maybe in the future they can do this again, and Roger agrees, but thinks nothing of it.

He does improve, but he doesn't forget about the boy, and doesn't want to for a while.

**Three.**

When Roger turns pro he tries not to think about the boy with the smile that makes everything bad go away, but eleven months after he does turn pro he does a double take as he walks through the dining room, because he thinks he sees him. He's glad that he's right and that he's not going insane and Roger goes over and taps him on the shoulder because the boy looks scared.

No one has ever seemed as happy to see Roger as Olivier looks, and he leads the Belgian to a seat, chatting happily to him in French, and they talk as they eat, Roger happy to have someone to talk to.

They both struggle in the next few months, both having good and bad weeks and sometimes Olivier takes Roger to a bar where they drink a few shots together, Roger grimacing as the vodka burns his chest because he hates it but wants to please the boy – no, the man, he reminds himself – so he does what he says. Often those evenings Roger ends up crying over his loss, staring at his reflecting in the bottom of an empty shot glass. Sometimes Roger talks him out of it and they play cards and listen to music, and Roger wishes that it would never end.

He's glad to have someone that he can talk to on tour, someone that he's known for years and is comfortable with, and someone who doesn't mind seeing him cry.

The times it hurts the most are the losses without Olivier, when he's not there Roger feels lost, and he doesn't know what to do about it or what it means.

It changes over the next months, they both improve and though they're still friends Roger finds he doesn't need Olivier as much anymore. He doesn't rely on him to feel better, he learns to cope like everyone else does. It helps when he meets Mirka, beautiful Mirka and he's happy with her for a while until he wants something else and she knows it.

"Roger," she says one evening, "you're not happy anymore," and he doesn't disagree, just nods. She kisses him sadly and it's bittersweet, Roger already missing what isn't his anymore.

She doesn't leave, she plays along with him after he begs and so she pretends to be his girlfriend, hugging and kissing for the cameras but nothing more.

"It's easier this way," he tells her and she agrees, but makes him tell her who the boy is that he can't keep his eyes off in the locker room, and Roger tells him his name is Olivier, and she should know that.

He can't get past the fact that he loves the way the name sounds on his lips.

**Four.**

He isn't sure why he accepts Andy's invitation, but he does – and he smiles wryly as he realises that it's because he has nothing better to do on a Sunday night. Andy takes him to a restaurant – not a fancy one, but a nice one and they talk and laugh and tease each other over wine, beer and food.

The alcohol goes to Roger's head, and he finds that he's so relaxed he starts telling his secrets to the American, words spilling out and he can't stop them, and afterwards he can't look at Andy, cheeks flushed and head ducked. Andy just tilts his head up and promises Roger that he won't tell, it's nothing he hasn't heard before, and Roger believes Andy though he doesn't know why. Perhaps it's the American's smile, or it might just be the alcohol, he can't be sure.

Roger doesn't remember much the next morning, but he gets the biggest shock of when he turns over and finds a mostly naked American next to him, almost jumping away from him and falls out of bed, landing with a thud on the floor, and he winces as his head pounds.

Andy looks over at him sleepily, and groans, pulling the pillow over his head and mumbling something into it. Roger manages to stumble to the bathroom, having vague memories of wine and prawns but nothing conclusive and his head is no more clear thirty minutes later after his shower.

"Alcohol did you in, huh?" a cheery voice says from the other side of the room as Roger walks back in, and when he looks over Andy's half dressed, no shirt still but he has his jeans on. "I'll remember that for next time I play you."

Roger just blinks in response, head still fuzzy, and the American carries on.

"Don't worry Rog; I'll be out of your hair soon."

"Did we... what did we do last night, Andy?" he asks, and he hopes that Andy will give him a straight answer, the American isn't known for them.

"Nothing. I stayed over because I didn't want you to choke to death. You were in pretty bad shape. Even if I was interested in you, I would never take advantage."

He smiles in relief, and Andy slips his shirt over his head and looks around for his shoes.

"Thank you."

"No problem. And I expect no one to hear about what I told you last night... though I don't think you'll remember it. And don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

And suddenly it all comes flooding back to him – the wine, telling Andy about Olivier and Mirka, Andy ordering him beer and him spilling his secrets – and his face pales.

"I mean that Roger, don't stress about it."

Somehow Andy's standing an inch away from him and he jumps in surprise, Andy ruffling his hair lightly, and Roger flinches when he hits a tangle but Andy just combs it through carefully, undoing the knot with swift fingers.

He leaves wordlessly, slipping past Roger with his shoes in hand, and Roger's left alone in the middle of the room, and it feels empty.

**Five.**

The note simply says "Meet me at noon tomorrow in the café upstairs," and is signed Olivier and Roger knows he's seen his handwriting but doesn't remember if it looks like this, right now he can't concentrate on anything but tomorrow, heart leaping into his throat as he grins.

He folds the note into his bag, and when tomorrow comes he's nervous, coffee in front of him as he waits for Olivier, fingers tapping nervously on the rim of the plate.

"Hey," and accented voice says, and Roger looks up to find that same smile that he's always adored on Olivier, so natural and calm, and he can't help but smile back, motioning for him to sit across from him. He does, and there are a few moments of silence.

"You want a coffee? I'll buy," Roger offers, but Olivier shakes his head no, and Roger goes back to fiddling, this time absently stirring his own coffee with his spoon, listening to the clink of metal on china.

It's a rare uncomfortable silence between the two, neither one knowing what to say, and eventually it's Olivier who speaks.

"What do you want, Roger?" he asks, and Roger's stunned, making sure that he heard right before he responds.

"What did I want? You're the one who told me to meet you here."

It's Olivier's look of confusion which makes him realise that they've been set up, and he can only think of one person who would do such a thing.

"Andy," he mutters under his breath, and as if being called on cue, the American saunters up and turns the spare chair between them around, sitting on it backwards. His grin gives him away to Roger, but he avoids the friendly swat which is aimed at his head by the Swiss.

"Before you two get mad – which I think Roger already might be – I wanted to explain. See Olivier, Roger here," and he gestures to the Swiss, "likes you in a more than friendly fashion. And Roger," he says as he turns to look at him and Roger can't be mad at Andy, not when he has all the good intentions in the world, "well Roger, I'm pretty sure that Olivier here likes you back."

When Roger looks over to Olivier he's blushing and he looks so much younger, so much like the cute boy he met all those years ago and he reaches out to touch his face, stubble rough against his fingers, gently nudging it until he meets Olivier's eyes with his own.

"Is it true?" Roger asks and Olivier nods, and before he can say anything they're kissing, soft and gentle, just the briefest meeting of lips before Roger pulls away, realising that they're in public and that Andy's still next to them, grinning like a maniac.

Before Andy can leave, Roger tugs on his sleeve and mouths 'thank you', and the American just smiles and nods, patting Roger on the back before he leaves the pair alone. Silence prevails again, this time it's comfortable and Roger entwines their fingers together and somehow it feels right, like it was meant to be.

When Olivier smiles at him, he knows it is.


End file.
